


A Drop Of Truth

by theianitor



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Battle, Drinking, Elves, M/M, Mentions others, Old Friends, Post-War, Rumors, Uniforms, Vampires, the Simi is kinda hinted at
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24667891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theianitor/pseuds/theianitor
Summary: In the halls of King Ecclestone, Victoriam Socios, the victory of the allied nations, is celebrated once more. Rumors flow like the wine, both regarding the nobles and the military officers present. Sebastian, a Ritter of the Midland Cavalry, decides to take it easy on the drinks however; the night may promise to be long and tedious, but at least his suitor will be in attendance later...
Relationships: Jenson Button/Sebastian Vettel, Kimi Räikkönen/Sebastian Vettel, Nico Rosberg/Vivian Sibold
Comments: 26
Kudos: 32





	1. The Night Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all. :) Wrote a thing, finally. More words out is always good. The chapters will probably be pretty short, but I hope you guys will still like it. <3

Sebastian swept his short cloak aside and accepted another glass from a passing servant, taking a healthy sip. The night was young, he’d have to watch the drinks, but damn if he wasn’t tempted to let the evening pass in a haze. Events like these were usually long, boring affairs, an excuse for nobles to show off their wealth and attempt to pair off their offspring - this evening promised to be different only in that it was Victoriam Socios, and several of his fellow service-members would be in attendance.

_And that’s a damn good thing_ , he thought, looking around. While everyone was dressed in their best, all the military people in attendance in their finest dress uniforms and the nobles in fancy dresses and dress robes, some of these people only accepted his presence because they had to.

Some of the younger nobles were impressed with a lot of the officers though. Every year there was some talk of young ladies or earls getting a little too familiar with the military persons. The officers mostly laughed it off, to be fair, but it was almost better than the old nobles who blandly ‘thanked them for their service’ and left it at that. Sebastian was honestly quite glad to not interact too much with them. Despite his title, he had very little in common with these people.

The room was lavishly decorated with banners from the royal allies and noble families, the colors bright in the light of all the candles, standing out against the stone walls. Looking around for anyone he might know, Seb spotted Kimi Raikkonen, captain of the fifth rank and known to friend and foe alike simply as the Iceman. As a son of the North, he was a respected soldier and had led his men to many great victories. As a bluntly honest man who cared little for status and rank, it was only grudgingly that he’d been promoted to captain at all.

Raising his hand in greeting, Kimi returned it with a nod before resuming his glowering out over the room, tugging at the fastenings of his dress uniform. The captain’s rank in the north came with a long, dark blue cape, and it seemed to be causing him some discomfort. Next to him, His Royal Highness King Ecclestone was engaged in conversation with dukes Horner and Wolff, as usual sending glares sharp as daggers at each other. Sebastian was quite happy to not have to be part of the intrigues that came with titles.

Not to say there weren’t some who thought he ought to be. His father had been a Duke as well, their land small but prosperous, and technically it was his now since his father’s passing. Sebastian hadn’t even wanted to be an Earl, let alone a Duke. The land stood in the service of his lordship, and Seb was more proud of the title he had earned within the cavalry than the one he’d been born into.

“Introducing secondary Arrowmaster Webber of the South Islands!”

The room turned to look as one, and attendant stood aside to let another man through. He strode in, a well-recognized limp in his step, and veered right as soon as he was inside, passing so close to the side banners that his lordship’s emblem fluttered. He slowed once inside the room but stayed to the side as if hoping to stay hidden as his eyes scanned the room.

Trying to be discreet was of course completely useless since he had already been seen by everyone in the room upon entering, and also because he was a very tall man in the traditional full dress uniform of the South Isles, dark blue and bedecked in crimson and gold embroidery. Even in this room full of people dressed to the nines, the South Isles’ golden tassels, going from the top button to the officer’s shoulder, were a bit much.

Seb smiled and snapped up another drink, readying himself for his fellow officer’s arrival. If _he_ was a little uncomfortable in his formal uniform, Mark considered it discomfort on the level of a high-scale, public punishment.

They had briefly served in the same unit, and their relationship was much better since they had separated. As a young man Sebastian had left his home, looking to see the world and perhaps gain a title that actually _meant_ something, and had ended up signing up with one of the archer-regiments of the South Islands. He hadn’t been happy though, and the way his superiors treated him because of his hereditary title rubbed his fellow soldiers the wrong way – Mark prominent among them.

When Seb had left, he hadn’t expected to ever meet Mark again. Then the war had come and the Midland Cavalry had been stationed with a few of the South Isles’ archery divisions, and while it had come as something of a surprise to Seb, he’d become friends with Mark. Both were relieved to find they got along very well when not pitted against each other, and while they didn’t meet often anymore, seeing each other now was a lot more pleasant than before.

“You look like you can’t wait to get out of the suit,” Seb greeted, handing over the drink. Mark sank it in one go, putting the glass on the nearest little table. He wiped at his mouth ungracefully.

“I _really_ can’t wait to get out of the suit, mate.”

Sebastian laughed, watching the nearest server give Mark a curious glance as he grabbed two more glasses and put them on the table, not offering one to Seb but putting both nearest to himself.

“I know its Allies’ Day, but why in all the hells do we have to be here? We’re just window dressing.”

“Try to relax, it’s just one night. Have a drink, enjoy some food, talk for a little bit with me and the other guys...”

“... dance with some married noblewoman and cause a stir that lasts just short of a month?” Mark continued, taking a sip from his second glass. “I make it my business to stay out of people’s business, but that shit reached all the way down to me and mine, mate.”

“We just _danced_ ,” Sebastian said in a hiss, looking around.

“Mhm,” Mark nodded. “I know you and your ‘just dancing’.” He was smirking, enjoying riling his friend up. Seb was usually unbothered by jokes, but hinting at dalliances or romantic affairs was a surefire way of making him squirm.

“I’m serious, there was _nothing_ going on! She just wanted to dance, I couldn’t say _no_ , it would have been rude.”

“Mhm,” Mark repeated. “Wouldn’t bet my savings on it being ‘just’ anything with you, especially not after a couple of glasses of the good stuff.”

He snickered as Seb adjusted his collar, looking around again as if expecting one of the nearby ladies to join in on the accusations at any moment.

“Don’t get your cape in a twist,” Mark said, glancing around too. “Your _suitor_ isn’t here, nothing to worry about. I could even keep a lookout for ya, if you wanted to get some _dancing_ done?” He winked exaggeratedly. Seb crossed his arms.

“I wish you would stop. Maybe if you did some dancing yourself you would see that it _can_ be just dancing.”

Mark huffed, rolling his eyes and taking another drink. Before too long, they glanced at each other and both started snickering. While the teasing was kind of annoying, the tone was a nice break from the formal environment, a normal chat between friends who both agreed they saw too little of each other, but also knew that if they met it was usually because there was trouble. Seb relaxed his arms with a softer smile. Even to soldiers of their esteem, being able to meet under peaceful circumstances was a great indulgence and something to be respected and savored.

He put down his glass, deciding to slow down even further. The night, after all, was still young – that, and he knew _his suitor_ , as Mark had so graciously put it, would arrive later.


	2. Friends, Colleagues, Lovers

Sebastian and Mark got caught up for a while before Kimi came over to their table, visibly relaxing when he was in the presence of colleagues and friends rather than the higher officers and nobles. He was a popular man however, and many of the nobles who wanted to keep their populace happy wished to be seen as being in good standing with the northerner captain.

Conversation flowed easily enough between them. Mark had been supervising new recruits, Kimi had been trying to get out of doing the same, and Seb’s stories of new cavalry members learning to deal with military life as well as horses and weaponry never failed to make fellow service-members laugh.

“If we could at least wear the normal uniforms it would be better,” Kimi said grudgingly, pulling at the fastenings of his cape again. Mark chuckled.

“You’re telling me. The guards outside are all saluting, meanwhile I’m standing here feeling like a combined show-rack for noblewomen.” Mark made an exaggerated gesture to his tassels and medals. “Jewelry and fancy curtains, right this way m’lady.”

Kimi snorted, drawing an unimpressed look from a lady behind him, and Seb managed to keep from laughing out loud only with significant effort. Personally, he didn’t mind the dress uniform _that_ much. The short cloak, signifying his standing as Earl, came down to his elbows and was a bit of a nuisance when it came to food and drinks, but other than that he actually kind of liked it. His uniform jacket was a black, double-buttoned thing with silver detailing, bearing his rank and company insignia on either side of its high collar.

While Mark went to greet their former superior, Duke Horner, Kimi somehow got Seb and himself something stronger to drink.

“Were you really messing around with Wolff’s wife?”

Seb nearly choked on his drink, the alcohol burning as he coughed and tried to clear his throat without causing too much of a scene.

“What in all the hells, Kimi!” he said when he was done coughing and instead laughing. “Warn me before saying things like that!”

Kimi shrugged. “Meh.”

“And no, of course I wasn’t. We _danced_ at the midwinter ball, that’s all.”

Kimi shrugged again, his eyes sweeping the room. “Too bad. Would have been a good story.”

“She’s _married_ ,” Seb hissed.

“You’re not.”

“No but I value my head too much to be messing around with married nobles.” Sebastian adjusted his collar, a little self-consciously. “I wish you would give me a little bit more credit.”

“I give you enough credit,” Kimi said with the mere hint of a smile. “Duchess Wolff though...”

Sebastian started laughing again and they clinked glasses.

“So, still not married,” Kimi concluded after their impromptu toast.

“Well neither are you,” Seb said, and Kimi gave him a crooked little smile and a small nod.

Kimi had gotten married just before the war, taking a bride with frankly ridiculous riches to her name from a small town in his homeland. The higher officers and nobles, who would rather part with their own asses than stop gossiping, said that it was a marriage of convenience; Kimi couldn’t justify being single any longer, if he wanted to rise any further in the ranks. To all who knew him in the slightest, it was clear that Kimi was completely unbothered by such trivial matters. He had found someone he wanted to be with, and as far as he was concerned it was just that simple.

It hadn’t lasted though. For whatever reason, the couple had parted only a year into their marriage, just before the war broke out. Some speculated it was the lack of children. More mean-spirited whispers said they both strayed from the marital bed so much it made no sense to stay wed either way.

Sebastian didn’t know for sure. They’d never spoken of it, and he’d only found out about them splitting up two nights before the Last Battle of Lydden, when he and Kimi had partaken of too much drink and ended up sharing a bed. The thought had hit Sebastian like a punch, halting his movements and chilling his want.

“What about your wife?”

Kimi had stopped, his eyes glittering in the darkness. Both of their minds were really too far gone for objections, drink and the imminent threat of a battle that could very well see them both to their graves rearranging the priorities of even the most well-disciplined.

“She’s not... I’m not married anymore.”

The morning after, Sebastian had gotten it confirmed by the Midland go-between to the north: captain Raikkonen had indeed gotten divorced. At least that left him without guilt over what they’d done. They still never spoke of it after that day.

“I heard that maybe...” Kimi paused. Whether he simply hadn’t drank enough to broach such a subject, or was picking his words so carefully he actually felt the need to stop, remained unsaid.

Seb swallowed, resisting the need to adjust his collar again. The rumors of what may – but certainly _hadn’t_ – happened with Duchess Wolff were one thing. It was hardly even a scandal, as both parties knew full well they had shared a few dances and nothing more, and the duchess herself had left very much still on her husband’s arm that evening. This was of a different nature.

“No,” Sebastian said, knowing exactly what Kimi was trying to say and thinking it might be best to meet it head on. He did his best to not look Kimi in the eyes though. The Iceman was living up to his name, standing stock still as his cold eyes searched for any hint of weakness or lie.

“I heard he had been seen in the west country,” he finally said, taking another drink but still eyeing Seb suspiciously.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“I know he was not at the Midwinter Ball.” Kimi looked down at the table and then back up at Seb, as if expecting something.

“No, he couldn’t make it, but for Yule we...” Sebastian shut his mouth with a snap, knowing he had said too much. It was something of a known secret, but certainly not something he usually spoke freely about.

“Hm,” Kimi concluded. When they started speaking again Seb was relieved that the subject had been laid to rest, and Kimi seemingly had no more questions, at least for the time being.


	3. They're Something

“Introducing his royal highness, crown prince Nico of the allied elven nations, and princess consort Vivian!”

Everyone in the room looked over when the envoy from the eleven nations came inside, making an entrance definitely worthy of their royal status, as well as their noble race. The elves and humans had an alliance mostly based on word and trade these days, both having determined that while their military and economic forces benefited greatly from their cooperation, their peoples worked best if not too bothered with one another. Most people in attendance had met with elves several times before, but it was still something quite special to see them in full royal regalia.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Mark whispered at Seb’s shoulder.

Silently, Sebastian figured most of the men in the room – probably a fair few of the women too – certainly agreed. The crown princess consort was dressed in what could best be described as silver made cloth, glittering under the warm light of the chandeliers, slim and fitted to her whole body rather than the human fashion of skirts upon skirts for wide hips and slender-looking waists. A cloak made of some light, airy material came up from her shoulders and cascaded down her back, as if she were standing in her own personal waterfall.

“ _He’s_ something,” Kimi said in a low voice, having the courtesy to hide his words behind his glass.

Crown prince Nico waved and took a small bow, a little smile on his lips as he strode in to the room as if he owned the entire banquet hall. He was a blond young man with very blue eyes who might have passed for human if it hadn’t been for his slightly pointed ears.

Sebastian blinked. No. Nico could never pass for human. Something about him, maybe the effortless way he moved among the nobles, maybe the way his fine clothes seemed to glitter not only with fine needlework and beading but like the wearer himself was granting some kind of ethereal magic to his clothes, made it evident he wasn’t quite of their world.

They three military men kept talking, but Sebastian noted that they all kept finding their eyes drawn back to the elven couple. He and Kimi had fought alongside elves on their fronts, and Mark had been the go-between for his company and the elven command sent to aid them, his status as Arrowmaster apparently making him the most suitable in the elves’ eyes, but they were still a sight to behold.

Even on the battlefield the elves managed a rare elegance. Their archers were organized and quick and even their warhorses seemed to dance, long-legged and graceful. A few of the human generals disliked the elven rule of letting anybody who was able to fight for them join their ranks, thus meaning their regiments had several women among them.

In battle it definitely didn’t matter. Sebastian would take a helping sword and didn’t care in the slightest who was holding it. The invading barbarians hardly gave license just because a fighter happened to be a woman, an elf, a duke or lord or peasant. They wanted them all dead. Mark had used his rank more than once to silence those who tried to find problems with the female archers – once going so far as to ask a general if there wasn’t something better the general could be doing, if he had time to take offense to an ally in the middle of battle.

Nico had been at the capital but rumors were his father had forbidden him to stay on the front line after the alliance had been struck. He was a very competent archer, Sebastian knew, and appeared to be a good leader. Still, Seb could understand the elven king wanting to keep Nico safe. He was the heir to the crown of the allied elves – at least in human terms. There was some ambiguity regarding the elven line of succession.

The crown prince made his way through the room, greeting people as he went. Sebastian had met him before, but hardly thought he’d be recognized. To his surprise, Nico stopped at their table and gave him a friendly smile.

“Duke Vettel, it’s good to see you!” He reached out his left hand and then seemed to correct himself, taking it back and reaching out his right. Seb shook his proffered hand.

“Your highness,” he said, giving him a bow. Nico waved him off.

“I wanted to greet you as a fellow soldier, I forgot you don’t... with your other hand,” he said, making a small wave with his left hand. His smile fell away.

“I was sorry to hear of your father passing. I knew him only from the battle of Heppenheim, but he seemed a good man.”

He took both of Seb’s hands his own and lifted them to his forehead briefly. His wife closed her eyes next to him, bowing her head for a second. It was strange to see such a display from royalty, even though Seb was used to other nobles offering condolences about his father. What really stunned him though was that the battle of Heppenheim had taken place long before he was born, when his father had still been a young man. Seb already looked older than Nico.

Seb and the other soldiers stayed pretty close together as the night wore on, mostly speaking with other members of the armed forces. Mark made a point of dragging Sebastian along when he was beckoned to join Duke Horner for the retelling of one of his more well-known feats in battle however. Horner, who was former superior officer to them both, greeted Seb fondly and praised him as if the others at the table didn’t already know who he was. Duke Wolff, sitting next to Horner, shook Seb’s hand but had a notably sour look on his face as he did so. His wife, however, fluttered her eyelashes as always and gracefully let both of them greet her with the customary kiss on the hand, despite Mark already having introduced himself to her earlier.

While Mark spoke, Sebastian adjusted his collar again. He could feel Kimi watching him, as if he somehow knew that Seb was, in part, quite pleased at least with parts of his uniform. Seb knew full well where his questions had been going earlier, and he had a feeling Kimi already suspected what would quite possibly be confirmed at some point during the evening.

Because _he_ would be there. Since the war had ended, _he_ had never missed a single Victoriam Socios, at a difference from Kimi. Seb knew he enjoyed the company of the nobles; probably enjoyed the way they were divided between fawning over and fearing him, knowing full well they were in a debt which would never, ever be repaid.


	4. The Last Battle

The war against the invading barbarian hordes had come at the worst possible time. The dismal fall season had threatened a deathly cold winter to come. Food supplies were already running low; a dreary, wet summer had yielded unusually low crops. Several countries were already on their knees from a severe illness sweeping the lands.

Even allied, the human nations were rapidly losing land to the invading force, and when the agreement with the elves was struck, the barbarians merely seemed to find allies of their own. Suddenly joined by the horseriders of the west and a few of the northern tribes, their forces seemed unstoppable. King Ecclestone and his war council were strategically retreating; the focus now lay on protecting what remained rather than driving the enemy back.

And then he had appeared. Sebastian hadn’t been on the council and all he knew of the first meeting came from rumors, passed down and probably embellished several times over before it reached his ears. He’d arrived wanting to trade, saying he could guarantee not only the survival of the remaining humans but the victory of the allied armies against their foes. All he asked in return was some land in which to live in peace.

But the rumors varied. Some said he asked for a noble title; some said he asked for it _back_. Some said he wanted blood, revenge, or free rights to practice dark and frightening rituals. Some claimed he demanded rights to the virtues of certain nobles’ daughters, others said he simply requested to be included in the nobles’ affairs. At least the latter was supported by his presence at every Allies’ Day celebration since the end of the war.

The king had been desperate, and the requested trade had been easy enough to agree on, regardless of the details. Whether he actually trusted the stranger at this point or merely felt that if the promise of an unbeatable army was untrue it would end in the stranger’s death regardless, while leaving his own hands unstained, was still unknown.

So on a frosty day that chilled the bones of human and elf alike, the forces had faced each other on the Lydden Battlefield. It was a historic battleground and scene of many a vicious clash, well-trodden earth that seemed perpetually muddy and dead, as if all the struggles it had witnessed had left it tired of living.

And Sebastian, as one of the remaining officers on the front, had been there to see it. Kimi had been too, the only captain of the north present. A few generals from the council were there, but the king and the main forces were at the capital, at the stranger’s request.

Two companies had been left to protect their flanks, but those were the only remaining soldiers. The barbarian horde had been spotted on the other side of the field, ready for a simple frontal attack against their seemingly few opponents, and Sebastian had assumed, like everyone else, that his last moment had come. Calm as anything the stranger stepped forward, and when he seemingly disappeared into thin air, it had been the first time any of them witnessed actual magic.

Sebastian’s horse had been unable to stand still, a steed used to the din of battle seemingly rattled by the relative quiet of this assault. The ground had trembled with the stampede of the horde, first in attack and, just as suddenly, of attempted retreat. An ill feeling had stolen over the battlefield, clear as an icy wind, the screams of dying soldiers ringing out and being silenced by the smoke and splashing mud.

Nobody had spoken. None of the elves, none of the humans. Nobody had dared speak.

It had been over in less than one hour. The flanking companies suffered no losses. The elven captains had balked at the use of what they called dark magic, the humans present didn’t know what to think, and in the months that followed the Last Battle of Lydden the tales were spun so wildly that even Sebastian, who had actually been witness to it, had a hard time distinguishing what was actual memory and what was just fanciful stories.

What was true, regardless of what else had happened, was that the war was over. With their forces decimated, the remaining barbarians attempted to flee. There were no peace talks or treaties to be had, only bodies left to the elements. That, and a stunned King, whose first words upon learning the outcome of the battle had apparently been that he had ‘made a deal with a devil, and now they would all pay the price’.

The stranger had proven civil enough though. He had been present at the victory celebrations, appearing while reports were still flooding in from all over that the remaining barbarians were fleeing. In his strangely plain garb, he still moved like a man of high standing, shaking hands with the King, toasting with a few of the nobles and officers, drawing the eyes of people wherever he was in the room... and before the evening was over, he had taken a very clear interest in Sebastian.

In the nearest months following the war, Sebastian stayed at the capital with part of the cavalry, helping out in any way they could.

And everywhere he went he was shadowed.

There was no shortage of people wanting to host parties in honor of the fallen or celebrate victory, and every time Sebastian attended one, he could be sure his new suitor would be at his side. Always with compliments and small gifts, fingers stroking Sebastian’s cheek, eyes glittering with mischief.

Sebastian stuck to his principles, shielding his reputation as well as his heart. He graciously accepted the gifts and the attention but made no promises, and in public he maintained appropriate distance. The officers who had been on the front were all getting their fair share of interest, since winning the war came with land and honorary titles for a few of them. The stranger had only seemed interested in courting _him_ , however, and as Sebastian got to know him better, he had to admit he seemed very sincere. If anything, he seemed amused about Seb’s behavior.

“You take your time, Sebastian,” he said on more than one occasion when they parted after going on long walks or having gone riding together. “I can wait.”

It took the stranger twenty-one days to even get a kiss. Sebastian privately thought it actually only took him about half of that to get his heart.


	5. A Lord and a Captain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, I have to blame life for this one. Here's to doing better with schedules. *raises glass*

The attendant had stepped before the doors to open them for new guests so many times throughout the night that people hardly noticed him anymore. Something was different now though, he almost looked nervous as he opened the doors and did his announcement, the nearest candles fluttering in the slight draft.

“Introducing his... lordship, Jenson Button!”

At his words, a hush washed over the room like a wave, leaving everyone watching the door and a few whispering to each other. Sebastian saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Kimi was watching him however. He did his best to not draw attention – he’d get enough to last him a lifetime before the evening was over, he already knew – but couldn’t look away as Jenson sauntered inside.

He was dressed in plain black trousers and what looked like a uniform jacket, but without any military distinctions at all; straight sleeves, unadorned lapels, plain buttons. For how unassuming it was, it stood out all the more. If the elven crown prince had looked as if he owned the room, Jenson seemed to own the whole damn castle.

He went over to greet the king, who shook his hand with both of his own and made introductions as if it were necessary. The man in black smiled and greeted those closest to his majesty in turn, accepting a drink and toasting to peace, as was customary.

“... and this is Arrowmaster Webber, and I believe you already know Ritter Vettel..?”

King Ecclestone had a look in his eye like a farmer presenting his prize hog for sale before the harvest feast. Sebastian stopped himself from rolling his eyes, whereas Jenson merely smiled indulgently and shook Seb’s hand.

“Of course,” he said, winking at Seb. “We’ve run into each other.”

“Occasionally,” Sebastian added.

He managed to get out of the little huddle of people when a few of the nobles swept the King up in conversation again, and making his way over to a table at the edge of the room Seb grabbed a drink on the way. It wasn’t that he wanted to hide his relationship with Jenson, he just didn’t feel at home with the nobles, and certainly not with his Highness, who would blatantly do just about anything to keep his latest ally happy.

\--

Jenson had barely gotten away from the King and his company before finding himself face to face with the northern captain, and he had to admit the man had a certain something. His white uniform was decorated with several little medals and colorful markings, and the shoulders were broad and flat, embroidered with silver trim. The jacket and cape made him look even broader than he actually was, but there was no doubt he was a sturdy – and probably quite capable – man. Jenson wasn’t _scared_ of him, but the Iceman looking him up and down made him feel like the northerner was actually capable of releasing some of the northern climate on his opponents.

“I don’t know what you are and I don’t give a shit.”

“And you’re a captain, I believe?” Jenson returned, keeping his face neutral.

“If you hurt Seb I will fucking kill you.” The northerner’s accent was rough, but his words left very little room for misunderstanding.

“What makes you think I would hurt Sebastian?”

“Nothing,” the captain said, and Jenson was almost impressed by how little his expression and tone changed. From outside, nobody would be able to tell that this man had just delivered a death threat.

“But if you do I will make sure that you regret it,” Kimi finished. He turned to leave and Jenson could do nothing but look after him.

“Duly noted,” he said, watching as Kimi made his way through the crowd, going straight for where Sebastian was. A smile slowly spread over Jenson’s lips as an enjoyable idea started to take shape.

\--

“How are you doing?”

Sebastian had never gotten used to how Kimi could appear seemingly out of nowhere, and jumped at the voice beside him.

“Hells, I’m fine,” he said, making sure he hadn’t spilled anything. “It’s just a bit much with...”

Kimi nodded, glancing over at the crowd. They were both silent for a little while, Sebastian enjoying the comfort of being near a friend rather than all the nobles and kind of wishing he was back at the stables, and Kimi looking like he was very carefully formulating what to say. He often did though; he was known as a man of few words, and from when they’d fought side by side Sebastian knew it to be a fairly trait common among the northerners.

“I know what they say, about him...” Kimi started, putting his glass down.

“Oh yeah?” Seb replied, trying to keep as much annoyance as possible out of his voice. Kimi shot him an unimpressed look.

“You know I don’t believe that bullshit.”

Sebastian was honestly surprised. He’d expected the same hesitance a few others had expressed, claiming he’d either been put under a spell, or that the King was willing to send him forth as a sacrifice since the sorcerer had already taken a liking to him.

“Where I am from, there are people... not many, but there are a few people, who can...” Kimi fluttered his fingers like he was a street magician performing a trick, pretending to do a complicated spell. “If it is one thing I know, they know to be careful with their powers, and he’s not one of those.”

“Oh?” Sebastian adjusted his collar, feeling a little warm.

“So I think you just like him. Which is fine, I don’t care, I want you to be happy.”

It was as frank and honest as ever, but still a little strange to hear Kimi speak about feelings in such a way.

“What... eh...” Sebastian stopped himself and chose his words with care. “What about... the other rumors?”

“Bullshit,” Kimi scoffed. In spite of himself, Sebastian smiled, raising his glass to him. Even in such a tangled topic of conversation, he felt good talking to Kimi. There was no pretense, no need to be careful. Kimi went on.

“And even if they are true, who gives a shit? If he does anything to you, I will kill him, and he knows that, because I have said so.”

Sebastian coughed, choking on his drink. “What?!”

Kimi shrugged.

“I told you, where I am from, some people know real magic. You would keep me safe, and I would do the same for you.”

Not sure what to say, and Kimi seemingly done talking for the moment, Sebastian glanced out to the dancefloor where Jenson was now swirling along in a waltz with young Lady Jorda, her father surveying their progress with an almost hungry glint in his eyes. The young noblewoman definitely hadn’t chosen her partner for this dance, but was keeping up appearances well enough, smiling at whatever Jenson was saying to her.

Kimi might have heard of people who possessed true magic; Sebastian was pretty sure Jenson did not. However, he _was_ sure that if anything were to hurt him, Jenson would have their heart. He held the unique privilege of knowing he was bedding a killer, but also being completely sure that he would never, ever be harmed.

“Don’t worry about me,” he finally said aloud. Kimi shrugged again.

“I’m not.”


	6. What the Past may Tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very sorry about the delay. Let's get back to business, shall we?

Sebastian made his way from their table as the band finished one song and continued into the next. Kimi had been joined by one of the northern generals, and whether from drink or just not having seen each other in a while, they started talking happily, slipping into their shared native tongue as they spoke. After the third apology for doing so, Sebastian decided to save them the trouble and take a stroll around the room.

The dancing had shifted from a simple waltz to the traditional _seconde_ , a dance Seb remembered being forced to learn as a young man but that he had never quite gotten the hang of. The couples spun, parted, the men bowed and the ladies curtsied, and then there was a series of turns after which the couples shifted partners. Lady Jorda was still on the floor, her yellow-edged skirts floating about her, and Seb soon spotted Jenson further down the line of men who were again bowing to their partners.

He was free to dance, of course. He knew Sebastian preferred not too, too worried about making a misstep and drawing attention and scorn from anyone more well-versed in the art. Even at the first banquet they had both attended after the war ended, Jenson had _asked_ if he wanted to dance, and Seb had turned him down.

“He’s a noble, and an officer, and he doesn’t dance?” he had said with a bemused smile. “I hope the most handsome man in the room will at least let me have his name?”

“As soon as I find him, I’ll let you know,” Seb had replied, making Jenson laugh.

As they had talked through the night, Sebastian had found himself surprised by the man in black. Jenson wasn’t at all what he’d expected, having seen how he carried himself so effortlessly among the nobles and royals. It turned out he wasn’t stuck up, or a braggart, or particularly interested in being thanked or praised – at least not by Sebastian.

“There are much better things to talk about than a war that’s already over, aren’t there?”

In the weeks that followed they had seen a lot more of each other, going on walks, taking meals together, and a few of Sebastian’s friends in the cavalry joked that he was being courted. He and Jenson both found the company refreshing though, not exactly avoiding the topic of the recent unrest but rather moving past it. It felt like going forward. Rather than the lingering sense of being unsure of what was coming next, Sebastian felt a new joy, a want for life, and he credited Jenson for it. He made things feel as if they were _possible_.

Sebastian let himself think that they were. Once his initial hesitance had been settled he let himself be swept up, accepted the gifts and the compliments and returned the attention, letting it lead where it may. At first Seb had thought Jenson was just looking for – or offering – distraction, but soon enough it was clear that his motives were quite serious. Still, they kept their interactions light, just following the natural flow in their conversation as well as otherwise.

It felt _easy_. After all the hardship and uncertainty, it was _easy_. And it was that ease that had seen Seb finally accept the invitation to join Jenson in the lavish room he’d been granted for the Midland Fall Reception, a night celebrated throughout the land. They had sneaked away from the main hall early with a bottle of wine and watched the lights of the town below from the balcony, conversation light with the drink and touches heavy with intent.

When they were finally in bed, legs entwined and only the low light of the room hiding them from each other, Jenson had paused for a moment and turned serious. He’d asked what Sebastian would do if any of the rumors about him were true. Sebastian had said it would depend on which ones were. He’d still been halfway playing, still thinking that whatever he was about to hear, it wouldn’t be anything too nefarious. He had long-since asked if Jenson was involved in dark magic, and he had said that he was not.

“Will you stay, if I show you?”

The words had been a whisper, and finally Sebastian felt the weight of seriousness.

“I promise,” he said, shivering as the back of Jenson’s fingers stroked down the inside of his wrist.

“Do you trust me?”

“Never.” Sebastian scrunched his nose with a smile. It was an inside joke, stemming from a conversation wherein they had playfully argued about which lasted longer; always, or never. Jenson smiled back.

“Clever boy.”

Sebastian had wandered to the edge of the room, away from the dancefloor and the people, the music nothing but distant noise. He was gripping his empty glass with a slightly unsteady hand. Without thinking, he slid his hand against his jacket, as if the mark Jenson had left on his wrist the first time would somehow still be there, still screaming the truth to anyone who got close enough to see.

The memory of that night still made him shudder; he had by no means been a blushing virgin that first night with Jenson, but it had still been so _different_ , so much _more_ , to be connected to someone so completely.

As a child he’d been told stories, of course, of beings who led humans astray and fed on them, whether their life-blood or their spirit. The stories never seemed to detail fully how much of a give and take it was however, never seemed to mention that the beings themselves could fall in love and be willing to give everything to a human, what an incredible strength such a shared bond could be.

Seb took a breath to steady himself. Jenson had trusted him with his most well-kept secret, and in the process had shown Sebastian a whole new world of possibilities. He had never in his life been more sure he actually _belonged_ with someone, now that he had finally found somebody who could excite his body as well as his mind and accepted him fully, his flaws and human nature and all.

\--

“Your highness,” Jenson said, smirking as he bowed much too deep before the crown prince.

“ _Sir_ Button,” Nico said with something of a hiss in his voice, and Jenson delighted in the pink tinge that had blossomed on the elf’s cheeks.

“Congratulations on the little ones.” Jenson raised his glass in a little toast. “Forever young and finally an adult, your kind really are something else.”

“As is yours, although I doubt people would exactly _celebrate_ it.”

Jenson grinned at the way the crown prince’s mask of dignified aplomb slipped into a stubborn pout.

“There are some who do, that’s enough for me,” Jenson said.

“I would have thought you would grow away from toying with the humans, but I guess not?” The dig was accompanied by a sharp look that slipped into a once-over glance, and what Jenson was willing to bet was an unintentional lick of the lips.

“Well _someone_ didn’t want to play with me anymore, so I took my toying and went elsewhere.”

The crown princess consort appeared at her husband’s side, holding her hand out to greet Jenson while giving him a well-practiced smile. He leaned down, taking her hand and pressing his lips to the cool skin.

“Your highness,” he said, before turning back to Nico again.

“Now if someone were interested in going back to playing games, they should just have said so. I don’t chase my playmates.” Jenson drew his lips back in a grin, knowing Nico would notice the glint of danger no longer present in his life. The color rose even higher in Nico’s face, and he seemed unable to look away.

“I prefer to live in the present,” his wife said, giving Jenson that same tempered smile as before. “Some things, Sir Button, are better left in the past.”

“Of course,” he replied. Nico had chosen his partner well, no shrinking violet and certainly with a sharp tongue. It was always nice to feel wanted. However, it was obviously time for Jenson to take his leave.

“Why don’t I leave you two to discuss the past...” he made sure the crown princess consort saw him rake his eyes over her husband. “And I’ll go tend to my present.”

He relished the hushed whispers in the sing-song Elven tongue that broke out behind his back as he quietly sneaked up behind a familiar man in a black uniform.

\--

Sebastian jumped as he was once again surprised, but this time it was something brushing the back of his neck, someone leaning in to whisper close to his ear.

“Open to attack from behind. What’s got the most handsome man in the room so distracted?”

Seb turned with a smile, meeting a matching one on his lover’s face.

“As soon as I find him, I’ll let you know.”


	7. History

_“Will you stay, if I show you?”_

_The words had been a whisper, and finally Sebastian felt the weight of seriousness._

_“I promise,” he said, shivering as the back of Jenson’s fingers stroked down the inside of his wrist._

_“Do you trust me?”_

_“Never.”_

\--

A servant had lit the fire by the time they got up to the room, but the night was still warm enough that they sat comfortably out on the balcony. Jenson had undone the top buttons in his dress jacket, and Sebastian had opened the collar of his uniform and taken off his cufflinks. The conversation was kept quiet, eased by familiarity and wine.

“Would you dance if you were down there?” Jenson asked, motioning his wineglass towards the sprawling town below them.

Most of the town was dark, the houses disappearing gradually from view as the sun painted the sky in oranges and reds. The square was lit however, and several houses were dotted with lights from inside, candles lit in celebration of the harvest season. Joyous melodies carried on the wind all the way up to where they were sitting.

“Probably not,” Sebastian said with a smile. “You’re the only one I’d want to dance with, and I doubt you want to go down there.”

Jenson glanced down through the gaps in the stone banister as if he was considering it.

“You’re right. The only person I’d ask to dance is up here.”

It was a line, Sebastian knew it was a line, but he had to admit it made him feel a little bit special.

“Sadly, I guess I’d have better luck down there, as the one I asked to dance already turned me down,” Jenson added with a wink in his direction, making Seb laugh.

“You’re terrible.”

“That’s what they say.”

When the night grew colder they moved inside, spoken conversation stilling in favor of communication carried by touches and kisses. Jenson undressed him almost reverently, touching him like he marveled at his very skin, tracing his battle scars with his fingers and lips. By the time they had made it all the way to the four-poster bed, Sebastian could feel his legs shaking with nerves and excitement, and lay down gratefully.

Jenson had given him stories of his past, of things he had seen and places he had traveled, but his skin was strangely unmarred for a man who had lived such a life. His only scar was an almost circular, raised mark, just over his heart. He closed his eyes and swallowed when Sebastian touched it.

“What happened?” Sebastian whispered against Jenson’s lips. The first response was just a shuddered intake of breath, soon followed by words whispered so low he barely heard them.

“Certainly nothing as important as this.”

When Jenson asked him if he would stay, Sebastian hesitated for just a second. He still half-expected Jenson to explain the mystery he had seen at Lydden as simple sleight of hand and scare tactics. In a way, he supposed it was clever. In another, it was highly dishonest. And regardless, they had won the war. He had said it wasn’t magic, but in his heart of hearts the real issue was that Seb kind of _wanted_ to believe in magic.

Jenson’s fingers stroked up and down his wrist once more, his smile still slightly hesitant. It seemed he was struggling go on with the conversation.

“Listen,” Sebastian finally said, wanting to either move through or past the problem, whatever it might be, “have you been honest with me so far?”

“Completely.” There was no hesitation, not a hint of a joke.

“Then whatever you have to say, it won’t make me leave.”

Jenson pulled him even closer and kissed him soundly, leaving him breathless and with his heart beating hard, any thoughts of their conversation blowing away like dust. He looked up feeling almost confused to find himself on his back, Jenson looking down at him.

“I love you,” he said. “Give me your hand.”

In the dim light from the dying embers in the fireplace, he was a dark silhouette, towering above Sebastian and framed by the curtains they hadn’t drawn around the bed. As Sebastian reached up, Jenson still looked guarded, hesitant.

“You say stop, I stop.”

Sebastian nodded that he understood. Jenson took his hand and closed his eyes, kissing the inside of Seb’s wrist. They were skin to skin, yet _this_ felt all the more intimate; a kiss not to connect bodies, but souls. Jenson glanced down again, still holding Seb’s wrist. Then he drew his lip back.

 _“He is going to bite me_ ,” was all Seb had time to think at the sight of teeth – no, fangs – that hadn’t been there before. _“He is going to bite me, and it is going to hurt.”_

It did hurt. It stung, but only for a second, before Jenson closed his lips around the little nick he’d made to Seb’s skin, sending a wave of warmth through his veins.

As if his heartbeat wasn’t pumping blood anymore, but pleasure. It was heady, making his skin prickle and leaving him feeling heavy, pushing his hips up and unable to stop a moan from escaping as he pressed even tighter against Jenson. Thinking back on it later, Sebastian could compare the feeling to drinking surprisingly strong wine, where the taste masked the alcohol until intoxication suddenly hit.

It only lasted a short time before Jenson released his hand and licked at the cut, and Sebastian watched on, astonished, as the skin seemingly knitted itself back together, healing under his lover’s touch.

For a moment, the room was still. Both of them just looked at each other, but neither found or needed words. Sebastian was sure his heart, still beating hard against his chest, his veins still full of a fire he’d never felt before, was speaking for him loud and clear. He felt uncoordinated as he reached up to pull Jenson down to kiss him, trying to give back even a bit of what he felt.

Later, when the low glow of the fireplace had faded to nothing and they were even closer together, left to making their own heat, he asked Jenson to do it again. The vampire complied, holding Sebastian tight as euphoria took him higher than he’d ever flown with another person before.

“Is it always like that?”

The light of morning was already tinting the sky when Sebastian found his thoughts enough to ask. With their fingers still intertwined, Jenson kissed the back of his hand.

“No. I just wanted you to see some of what I feel for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s...” Jenson searched for the right words. “It’s like with food. Sometimes, eating is just eating. And sometimes it’s a proper feast, a real pleasure. And a lot of the time, the difference isn’t what you’re having, but who you’re sharing it with.”

Sebastian snuggled in closer to his side, feeling tired but still elated, his nerves still tingling with excitement.

“And this?”

“What do you mean?” Jenson countered, and Seb could hear him smiling.

“Having sex,” he said, wanting to speak clearly. “Us, and all of this.”

Jenson kissed him on the head. “Sex is the same,” he said. “Sometimes it’s just biology, and other times it’s...”

This time, he never did seem to find the words. Sebastian thought he understood anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> All in good fun, as per usual! :)  
> Thanks for the read! <3


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